


Boredom Does Strange Things..

by EpiKatt



Series: Destiel Oneshots that I'm too lazy to make one book :) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloody Kisses, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpiKatt/pseuds/EpiKatt
Summary: AU in which Castiel is ex special ops, and Dean is a Hitman, and Castiel bored with civilian life, hires Dean on him.





	Boredom Does Strange Things..

**Author's Note:**

> The first part is a bit rough, but it gets slightly better I believe.

Every morning at four a.m sharp, Castiel gets up, gets dressed, and works out for three hours. One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, three mile run in the woods behind his house, and the remaining time is spent running on the treadmill and lifting one hundred pound weights. He's confident enough to know he doesn't need a spotter.

It's been seven months, three days, eighteen hours, since he retired to become a civilian. The exercising at this point, was instinctual. He constantly was twitchy, needed to do something with his hands. After his workout, he would grab one of his numerous guns, strip it, and clean it. Even if it didn't need to be cleaned.

Again, instinctual. Usually after that he would fire off one of his many guns for another hour. But today was different.

Today, he didn't do any of that. At the bold age of thirty two, he it itched to be on a computer, like a teenager.

He lie in bed for a while, before getting up and going to his desk and turning on his desktop. He sat in his office chair, in plaid pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt.

As a retired special-ops agent, he knows his way around a computer. Hours later, he was ready. He had all the software to get into the Dark Web. A slow, sinister grin crept up his face the moment he found what he wanted.

                     >Hitmen For Service<

                         More Info Here

                                                         

Castiel was running through the forest, a shotgun firmly in his grip, laughing hysterically with a touch of madness.

"This is the most fun I've had in months! So stop hiding and face me like a man!" Castiel taunts as he crashes through the undergrowth.

"You are an insane mother fucker, I'll give you that!" Calls the other man. A sadistic grin creeps up Castiels face. He's close. He slowly moves towards the other man's position. He can hear the soft panting, the way his body tilts a little to the left and right, his body tense.

Castiel got the idea this guy was new at the job. Castiel was sane enough to have empathy. This kid wasn't a stone cold killer like him yet. 

Might as well just send him to the hospital.. He thinks.

He sauntered out from his hiding in the undergrowth, and without a word, shot the kid in the shoulder. Not with his shotgun, thankfully for the kid, but his handgun, an M-9. 

The kid yelped and fell on his ass. 

"Be thankful I'm not going to kill you. Here's a phone, there's service, call an ambulance" Castiel says with a bored tone, the adrenaline wearing off. The kid nodded mutely.

When the kid looked up again, Castiel was gone.

                                                       

After Castiel emptied his bank account, sold almost everything he owned for more cash. About a month later, he hired his first hitman. Then another. And another. Until he lost count.

Sometime's he would kill them, sometimes send them to the hospital. Depended on his mood that day. He soon had to start getting creative when hiring one. They started to recognize him and denied payment, and service. 

But soon it started getting boring. It felt like everyone they sent were greenies. He would get the occasional professional, (to him, at least,) which was always fun. 

So one day, nearly a year later, he decided to hire their most expensive, the best hitman. 

                     Dean Winchester 

"Dean Winchester hm..?" He hums, clicking buy. "Let's see what you got.." He says with a casual smile, one he reserves for when he's feeling cocky.

                         Purchase successful!  
                      Say your goodbyes ☠

He ran a hand across his face, feeling the scratchy feel of his stubble. The thought of shaving crossed his mind.

He closed his laptop and looked around his small motel room. His small twin bed with a dinky nightstand, with a bible that has half the pages missing.

The lamp, with a flickering light, and a bathroom with mold in the shower. 

He stepped in and took a fast shower, and after drew a blade across his face, seeing the beard stubble fall into the sink.

When he finished everything, he got rid of everything marking he was there, packed his things, and left. 

He got in an old farm truck, and drove off.

The next day he got a text:

Unknown Number: so who am I supposed to gank?

He pulled over to answer, since he was still driving.

C/N: me

UN: seriously? Basically suicide. Creative, I'll give you that. What's your mug?

C/N: image sent  
      There.

UN: man, I don't know if I can kill you with a face like that.

C/N: who said you were going to kill me?

UN: Isn't that what I was hired to do?

C/N: never said it was going to be easy, Mr. Winchester.

UN: Oh~ you make me all tingly when you talk like that.

C/N: is this flirtation? 

UN: oh my god you are ignorant. Yes, this is flirting. Is it working?

C/N: not at all

UN: can't blame a girl for trying 

C/N: you're a girl?

UN: no, it's a phrase. Well gotta go. Gotta find you. This will be fun. Goodluck.

C/N: good luck.

●                                          ●                                         ●

Castiel set his phone down and went back to driving. He had a feeling this hunt would be different. But he can't figure out how...

Castiel later put in Winchester into his phone as a contact. After two days of silence he got another text:

W: you're good. Real good.  
C/N: I told you.  
W: but I'm better. You're at the roadhouse motel, aren't you?

Castiel face twitches into a smile.

C/N: yeah  
W: easiest paycheck ever  
C/N: two hours ago  
W: ..what?  
C/N: I was there. Two hours ago.  
W: you know how hard it is to track someone using cash?  
C/N: hard, isn't it? Good.  
W: damn you're brutal.  
C/N: thanks. Now let me continue to give you something to chase.  
W: I hate when you're right. See you then.

Castiel didn't reply.

End of Part One ~

Another week passes without much incident. Castiel was as a small Cafe in New York when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He hums in pleasant surprise and pulls it out.

W: Why can't I track your signal, hm?

C/N: one, my GPS is off, and two, I know how to hide my ip. I'm not stupid, Winchester.

W: what state are you in? 

C/N: anxiety. Why?

W: was that.. was that sarcasm?

C/N: it was, wasn't it? Funny how some things work.

W: holy shit you know sarcasm. I was starting to think you were a robot.

C/N: obviously not. What state are you in? And the territory, not state of mind.

W: Delaware. Close?

C/N: a few states off, Winchester. I was there last week.

W: dammit. Well, I better be off then, you know, trying to kill you.

C/N: could I have a picture of you?

W: that wouldn't be wise for me. You could spot me in a crowd.

C/N: if you were any good, I wouldn't spot you anyway. Picture? We'd be on equal ground.

W: ugh. Fine.  
Image sent  
Happy?

C/N: very. You weren't what I was expecting.

W: that a bad thing?

C/N: no, not at all. Don't you have somewhere to be though?

W: right, right. I'll be in contact. I might switch numbers soon.

C/N: goodbye, Winchester.

      

Castiel puts the phone away again and turns to his light soup and dark coffee. They don't go well together, but the soup keeps him operating and the coffee keeps him awake.

He decides to go back to his motel room for a few hours of rest. 

The next week he was checking into yet another motel. When he walked into his room, he accidently caught a tripwire and set off a gunshot. 

He grunted and saw blood slowly soaking his jeans on his upper thigh. "Dammit Winchester," he snarls.

He shut the door and limped to the bathroom, with his duffel and got out a needle and dental floss.

He dumped some whiskey on his leg after shucking off his pants and got to work sewing before he lost too much blood. He was already a bit dizzy.

Fifteen minutes later, he was done, albeit with messy stitchwork. 

He pulled out his phone and angrily took a picture of his legs, ignoring how he was just in light blue boxers.

C/N: got anything you'd like to fucking tell me about this?  
Image sent

W: ouch, did a doozy on you, didn't I, Novak.

C/N: Why not do the job yourself you ass!

W: I had two possible locations, I went to one and stuck a gun at the other hoping it'd kill ya.

C/N: so you know where I am?

W: yup.

C/N: dammit.

There was no telling how far off Dean was, he got his shit together as fast as he could, and booked it out of there.

He needed to find a way to kill Dean. And soon. But.. He had a little voice in the back of his mind, saying don't. "Just hearing things," he declares with a noncommittal shrug. Though the thought bothered him more than it should.

Because dammit, he was starting to enjoy Dean's snarky behavior.

End of Part Two ~

Finding a new place to stay was a bit challenging. He kept making sure it was nondescript enough, but everytime found something that made him leave. A hidden camera, a security guard, a sketchy hotel manager.

He finally found one in Missouri, in a very, very small down right near the border. The place was called 'Angels Chair', whatever that meant.

Castiel walked in, with barely a limp, even if it's only been two days. He quickly rents a room near his car and goes inside. It was okay, for a motel. A single twin bed, a sturdy-ish looking nightstand with a gross seventies green lamp, with yellow walls and red carpet.

He cringes at the smell of old cigarettes, tacky perfume, and stale sex. He sets down his duffel and sits down, leaning against the wall with a sigh. He needed to get his feelings in check, Winchester was supposed to kill him, or Castiel was supposed to kill him, whichever came first. He wasn't supposed to.. develop feelings for that handsome, snarky man..

He shook his head to get rid of those thoughts.

He sighed and stood up, he needed to find some food.

                                 -÷-

He gets silence on Winchesters side, and despite himself, gets worried.

He was out sightseeing a bit, since he was bored. It was close to closing and no one was there.

He was smiling a bit to himself, as dark as he was, nature was the only thing that made him truly happy anymore.

He heard a sudden crack and stiffened and snapped his head around.

He saw nothing and squinted in suspicion.

Suddenly there was a laugh.

He turned a bit and saw what he presumed was Winchester.

"Winchester, found me finally?" Castiel laughs.

Winchester hums thoughtfully and tilts his head. "You can call me Dean, it's on my form," he states.

"Dean, then. My apologies."

He nods and looks away for a moment before looking back at Castiel. "You're more handsome in person," he notes randomly.

Castiel, at a loss for words, opts to stay quiet.

"I mean, I'm supposed to kill you, but do I really have too?" He asks humorlessly.

"You're better looking too," is all Castiel could come up with.

Dean looks at him with a thin smile.

"Gotta do my job I suppose," he sighs,and quickly draws a knife. Castiel was thankful, he hadn't brought his gun, and only had his knife.

They suddenly rushed at each other and their knives met with a dull clang.

Castiel grunted, the other man was strong, stronger than he thought he would be.

They pull away and circle each other for a moment, before Deans on him again. 

This goes on for a number of minutes.

Finally, Castiel can tell he's losing. Soon enough, Dean has an easy opening and goes to take it. Castiel does the first, odd thing that comes to mind, and kissed him.

Dean let's out a very startled noise and nearly pulls away from the kiss, but Castiel keeps him close, so he doesn't.

Dean and Cas slowly end up loosening their grips and dropping the blades.

Eventually they both need air and both pull away, panting and look at each other. 

"Well shit, that's not quitewhat I expected from this job," Dean says sarcastically.

Castiel just growls and drags him back in for another rough kiss.

                              -÷-  
They ended up faking their deaths.

They drove a car off a cliff with both their blood and a deep ton of animal bones.

When asked where Dean would like to live, his answer is simple, and a bit unexpected, "I've always wanted to be in the beach. I don't care which one."

So that's where they ended up, on a beach in Maine.

Castiel eventually asked why Dean went into being a hit man. "Because my brother needed to pay for college. But once he graduated I just.. kind if never left," he explains simply.

Dean and Castiel did live a peaceful life, the dark web company had enough better hitmen after Dean, they didn't really try to find them. 

They lived in that beach happy, until Cas died at sixty eight, and Dean at Seventy two, a year later. People always say he died of the loss of his husband (that happened) but no one was ever sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks


End file.
